Candle in the Wind
by LilyIsAwesomerThanYou
Summary: Loneliness was tough, the toughest role you ever played. Hollywood created a superstar, and pain was the price you paid. Even when you died, oh, the press still hounded you. All the papers had to say was that Marilyn was found in the nude.


Wow it's been a long time since I've been on here... It's been a looooong year with a lot of stuff going on, most recently a trip to the ER out of nowhere... well, here is my attempt to get back into writing before I jump into Stars again.

I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, nor do I own "Candle in the Wind." They belong to JK Rowling and Elton John, respectively.

* * *

Candle in the Wind

The light splaying across the flagstones from the crack under the heavy wooden door of the eighth-year bathroom was unsurprising. Although it was well past midnight, the students that had chosen to return to sit their NEWTs following the war followed a laxer set of rules, including an almost nonexistent curfew. And given the nightmares that plagued many of them, it wasn't unusual for the bathroom to be occupied well into the night.

So no, when Severus Snape stalked down the corridor that Sunday night, it wasn't the light from the under the door that caught his attention. It was the music. Soft, melodic music that drifted down under the door and throughout the corridor.

His steps faltered for a moment as he considered banging on the door and demanding that whichever student had decided to bathe at such an ungodly hour turn their music down, but instead he continued on down the corridor. He finished his rounds, which were dreadfully disappointing – only a few foolish Hufflepuffs snogging behind a tapestry and one Ravenclaw studying by candlelight in the library after hours – before returning to the corridor outside the eighth-year loo.

The music was still playing, and now that he paused fully, he recognized it. It was Elton John, the old muggle singer that his mother used to listen to. And it was the same song playing over and over again, although he wasn't sure which one it was. It had been more than a few years since he had seen his mother (more than a few since she had been alive, in fact).

 _"Goodbye, Norma Jean. Though I never knew you at all, you had the grace to hold yourself… while those around you crawled."_

Severus stepped up to the door hesitantly. With the same song playing over an hour later, he felt that sick twist in his gut that told him something was wrong. And with nearly twenty years as a spy under his belt, that feeling was almost never wrong.

Pale, scarred knuckles rapped staccato on the bathroom door.

" _And it seems to me, you lived your life like a candle in the wind, never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in."_

He knocked once more, and once again he received no response. Severus pulled his wand from his sleeve, flicking it at the handle of the door. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open slowly. Rose-scented tendrils of steam wafted into the hallway.

 _"Loneliness was tough, the toughest role you ever played. Hollywood created a superstar and pain was the price you paid."_

Severus stepped through the open door and into the bathroom. The toe of his boot splashed into a puddle of water slowly creeping out of the large tub in the center of the room and toward the door. He caught a hint of the signature coming from the magically-powered record player and called out, "Miss Granger?"

Once again there was no reply but for the music.

 _"Even when you died, oh the press still hounded you…"_

He thought he could make out the silhouette of the girl floating on her back in the water. He tried to convince himself that perhaps her ears were under the surface and she merely couldn't hear him, but that feeling in his gut twisted tighter still. He approached the other side of the bathtub, the music swelling in his ears as he did so.

 _"All the papers had to say was that Marilyn was found in the nude."_

He reached the edge of the tub, and only then did he notice that the bubbles surrounding her figure were not tinged with a pink bubble bath but rather with blood.

Severus threw himself into the water in an instant, warm water soaking through his thick wool robes and sinking into his socks. He held his wand above his head as he waded through the tub, steam and panic working together to blur his vision.

"Granger," he choked out as he reached her, lifting her limp body from the water. Blood swirled from the deep gouges on the undersides of her wrists as Severus laid her on the slippery tiles next to the tub. Empty potions vials littered the space around her body and Severus sniffed one cautiously. Dreamless Sleep. She had taken nearly forty vials of Dreamless Sleep.

The doe of his Patronus galloped from the room in a burst of sheer wandless magical energy, off to get Poppy from where she surely slumbered in her chambers adjacent to the hospital wing. Severus cast a temporary patch on the wounds on her wrist as he felt for a pulse.

It was faint.

As Severus carried a lifeless Hermione Granger from the humid bathroom, the music began to fade in the background.

 _"And it seems to me you lived your life like a candle in the wind, never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in. And I would have liked to love you but I was just a kid… the candle burned out… long before… the… legend… ever…. did."_

The music drew to a halt. Hermione Granger was gone, though her candle had burned out long before her heart had stopped.

* * *

Based somewhat loosely on the death of Marilyn Monroe


End file.
